Pulling The Trigger
by Freelance7
Summary: 1949. The war is long gone, and Omnics are having trouble finding a place in society as citizens. As the city of Ancora leads the way for this movement, Detectives Jesse McCree and Lena Oxton find the darker side to this city when more than seventy people are killed in a single night. Art by Northssketchbook


**Episode 1: Pilot**

"Whatever you do, don't pick the currywurst."

"Why not?"

"Just don't. It's...not that good."

"Everyone has different tas-"

"Ah, welcome Detective McCree! I see you've brought a friend!"

"I guess you could call her that. Reinhardt, world renown chef, meet Lena Oxton, my new partner."

Wide brown eyes switched from the thirty-something year old brunet man, smoking underneath the fluorescent lighting like a chimney, sitting in the booth seat across from her, to the much larger, much older man towering over them.

The owner of said eyes, a young woman who had just turned twenty six, gave a wide, awkward smile. As she spoke, her cockney accent made itself known, "Uhm, yeah. Lena O- he already said my name. Uh...nice to meet ya!" Her hand shot out, realizing the mistake she made right as her hand was absorbed into Reinhardt's mass of a fist.

Lena glanced over at McCree, who shrugged, tapping the cigarette in between his gloved fingers against the rim of the ashtray, sending little speckles of black and grey ash to collect with the rest. "We finally got a moment to ourselves. It's been about...how long?"

Lena laughed. "A week...and it was a busy one. But finally I can take a break. Get to know my ol' partner here."

" _New_ partner, Lena."

"Right, that."

Reinhardt tapped his pen against the notepad. "So are you ready to order?"

The detectives looked at the larger man, eyebrows raised, with McCree speaking, "Uh, yeah. I will just have the steak and eggs. Lena?"

Her eyes peered down at the menu. She smirked and glanced at McCree before handing her menu to Reinhardt, "I'll have the currywurst."

"Excellent choice!"

McCree frowned. She stuck her tongue out as Reinhardt took the older detective's menu and walked away.

"You just did that to spite me, didn't you?"

"Maybe. I was genuinely curious, however."

"Sure you were," he sighed and looked out the window, "So, we have some time to ourselves. Tell me about you. Tell me about Lena Oxton."

Lena laid back in her seat, resting her hands behind her head. "Well...I was born in England, obviously. I was the youngest of a very large family. Like, several brothers, several sisters. I had that normal family, the ones that wanted their children to grow up and make them grandparents," she blew air, a bang of her spiky brown hair flapping upward, "I was an aunt at the age of eight, McCree."

"Okay, how about we get to more recent events? Like why did you come to Ancora?"

Lena's eyebrows raised. "Oh, right. Well...after the war started and many moments of telling my mother I wasn't seeing anyone, I decided, at the age of twenty, to join the Air Transport Auxiliary. To give myself something to do, really, and to keep my mother off my arse."

"And how was that?"

"It was the best decision I've ever made. Eventually I was able to show that I was a pretty good pilot, and they put me in a Spitfire. If I could say I found true love, it would be with the sky. It's so open, and free. Very beautiful."

A moment of silence grew between them, as both Lena and McCree remember their time in the war.

Then she continued, "After that, I decided I had enough of the war...so I took a plane, flown by someone other than me, to Ancora, which I heard was a city for everyone and anyone to begin anew. Even when Omnics came back, after all the violence they caused in past lives, unlike most of America, this city welcomed them. It was a...a beautiful thought. And the fact that the city's name is Latin for Hope attracted me."

McCree shot a plume of smoke from between his lips. "Hah, that is the biggest irony I've ever heard."

She tilted her head. "Why is that?"

"Have you not been paying attention to the last week? To the prostitution, drugs, and car thefts?"

"That shouldn't make the name any less true."

"Pfft, whatever."

"Well then why don't you just tell me about you?"

He pulled his cigarette out. "What is there to know? I was in the war, now I'm not. I'm a detective. I enjoy smoking and long walks on the beach."

She scowled at her partner. "I mean...I know you were in the war. But come on, tell me about your upbringing. Your family and friends."

McCree cocked an eyebrow as he brought the cigarette back to his lips to take a drag. "I guess that, just...I am not very comfortable talking about-"

A loud voice pierced the air, catching the attention of many as a large head poked out from the door to the kitchen. "McCree!"

The detectives' heads snapped to the source of the sound to see Reinhardt, a phone in hand. "It's Ms. Amari, she needs to talk to you."

Lena glanced at her partner, eyebrow raising in curiosity.

McCree frowned, getting out of his seat and walking over to the door to take the phone. "Thanks Reinhardt," he said before raising it up to his ear, "Fareeha?"

An Egyptian accent filtered through the earpiece, "McCree, sorry to break up your 'bonding time', but we have an issue. Fawkes and Rutledge are out and about again."

He ran his fingers through his brown unkempt hair, sighing loud enough for Fareeha to hear it. "What, _exactly_ , are they doing?"

"They are currently on a joy ride, being chased by multiple cars, and shooting explosives every which way."

McCree gritted his teeth. Those two always rubbed him the wrong way.

Fareeha continued, "You know, the usual."

He leaned against a nearby wall, looking over at his partner, their brown eyes meeting. She raised her brows in question.

He simply shook his head.

She threw her hands up in annoyance.

He turned his attention back to the person on the other line. "Where, exactly?"

"Near. Trust me, it will literally be impossible to miss them. Just head down on Noon Boulevard and you will inevitably cross them. Now get moving."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hanging up, he walked back to their booth to collect his reddish brown hat. "Come on, Lena. We have criminals to catch."

She frowned. "But I wanted to try out the currywurst."

He shook his head, taking the cigarette from between his lips and putting it out in the complimentary cup of water he received. "Next time, you can."

As she slid herself out of her seat, she checked to make sure her suspenders were still in the right spot before grabbing her blue coat and putting it on while exiting the diner with her partner, apologizing to Reinhardt for the sudden leave on the way out.

* * *

"Come on, Lena, we are kinda in a hurry," McCree said, getting into his car.

"You mind telling me what the hell is going on?" She asked, resting her arms in the passenger side window frame.

"I will explain on the way, now get in!" He demanded, pushing the door open for her.

She just rolled her eyes and got in, folding her arms while he started his car up. His car, like many detective cars, was not given to him by the department. Rather, it was his own car. A dark grey 1949 Ford Sedan. Rather worn, but still in great condition.

"Keep an eye out, Lena." He said, taking the car down the street. The radio crackled to life, a man's voice filtering through the speakers.

"Morning, people of Western Washington! Welcome back to SAR, your number one source of music and news! It's me, Lucio dos Santos, and-"

McCree turned the radio down, snuffing out the sound. "No radio, we need to focus."

Lena nodded in understanding, keeping her eyes open for...well…

"What are we looking for?"

McCree turned a corner. "Jamison Fawkes and Mako Rutledge. Criminals from Australia, one a bomb maker, the other a bodyguard. They moved to Ancora and decided 'Hey, let's fuck shit up here'. A disgusting pair of assholes, if you ask me. I would just shoot them, but the law says no, so…" he turned his head towards her, "yeah."

Turning onto Noon Boulevard, it only took a few feet down the street before the sound of explosions made their way to the detectives' ears, followed by the wailing of sirens. Then the scene made its way into view.

A small car staying a good distance in front of a squad of cop cars, with what looked to be grenades shooting from one of the windows and detonating near the police as they got close, some being almost thrown to the side if their driver hadn't gotten them under control.

McCree acted quick, rounding the corner and speeding up to get to the front. "The grenade launcher is new. He must've made it himself."

"Just get up close," Lena said, reaching into her coat to pull out one of her M1911 handguns, pulling the slide back until the brass of the bullet shined in the morning sun, then releasing it to look ahead, "I can get them."

McCree cocked an eyebrow in her direction. "What are you planning?"

"Obviously, I am going to try to take out their tires. But these pistols aren't as accurate as your…'Peacemaker', so you get what I am getting at here?"

A sigh emanated from him. "Yeah, hold on. Let me try not to get us killed."

"Thanks, buddy!"

McCree rolled his eyes as he got closer. "Just take them out. Don't give Fawkes a chance to shoot a grenade."

"You got it!"

Lena rolled the window down before leaning out, closing one eye to take aim. A figure in the back of their targeted car moved about, putting what looked to be balls into a contraption.

It was when she saw him cock it that she knew it was the launcher.

The man pulled himself a bit out of his window, sitting on the frame, laughing quite audibly and preparing to unload on the group behind his car when a bullet suddenly scraped paint off of the roof next to him. He shrieked and ducked back in.

Lena chuckled and leaned out a bit more to aim at the tires. "Keep 'er steady!"

"I am doing my best."

She bit her lip in concentration, then pulled the trigger.

 _Bang! Ping!_ It skidded off the asphalt.

"Damn! I said keep it steady!"

"Technically you said 'keep 'er steady'."

"Well technically...shut up!" She retorted, taking aim once again.

 _Bang! Ping!_ Missed once again.

"Come on!"

"Just concentrate!"

"What the hell do you think I am doing?"

 _Bang! Ping! Bang! Ping! Bang! Ping!_

"Shit!"

"Lena! Just-"

"Forget it! I am going to Plan B!"

"What's Plan B-Lena! Where are you going?"

She was already pulling herself up onto the roof of the car, sliding herself down onto the hood. "Plan B!"

McCree's eyes widened as he realized what she was doing. "Lena, don't do it!"

"It's the only way! Just keep an eye on me!"

"Lena, don't!"

It was too late.

She pushed herself onto her feet, crouching low to keep herself from falling off. With a loud yell, she hopped from the hood of McCree's car to land on the trunk of Rutledge's, slipping a bit, but regaining her footing quickly after. She crawled up onto the roof and positioned herself above one of the windows.

* * *

Jamison sat back in his seat, momentarily looking over his shoulder at the cars chasing them before turning to his fat friend in the front seat. "Step on it, mate!"

"Don't push me, rat."

"They are gaining on us!"

"I know what I am doing."

"That crazy bitch shot at me, could you believe it?!"

"Yes."

Jamison looked over his shoulder once again. But...something was different.

"Where did she go?"

"Who?"

"The bitch! The one that shot at me-"

 _Crash!_

Glass sprinkled all over Jamison and the seat next to him as the window exploded inward, a small body swinging their way in. A cheery voice followed.

"Oi! Good morning, loves!"

Jamison, who was shielding himself from the glass shards, lowered his arms to see the young woman, smiling ear to ear. His eyebrows turned downward, his mouth snarling like a dog as he bared his teeth.

With crazed eyes, he pulled up his grenade launcher, which looked very...homemade, "You fucking whor-"

As he pulled the trigger, Lena leaned to the side, the grenade flying past her into the street, her hand grabbing the barrel of the gun while she lifted her foot and kicked Jamison in the face, causing him to lose his grasp on the gun, and Lena to throw it out the passenger side window. "Not here, friend!" She giggled and threw her fist at Jamison, hitting him square in the nose.

As he recoiled back, groaning in pain, she reached into her coat and pulled out her gun, about to aim it at him when a huge meaty hand shot out and snatched it, wrenching it from her grasp and tossing it out the window.

"Not here, _friend._ " Mako grunted as he swung the bottom of his fist at her.

She leaned forward, headbutting Jamison in the stomach and dodging the mace of a fist Mako wielded, which hit Jamison in the face, causing the poor man to be knocked unconscious.

Lena used this opportunity to slide into the front passenger seat, grabbing the window frame behind her to pull herself up in an attempt to deliver a kick to Mako's face.

It did nothing.

In fact, it only made him angrier.

He growled and grabbed her legs to pull her back in. The sudden jerk disorientated her, allowing Mako to reach out with his hand out and wrap it around her small neck, his muscles flexing as his fingers crushed her throat. "I've had enough of you. Pesky little runt."

She couldn't breathe. He was strangling her!

She kicked at him repeatedly, her hands trying to loosen his grasp even a little bit to allow her some air. But he was too strong.

"Stop." She managed to gasp out, feeling herself get dizzy. Her kicking began to slow, and her vision began to blur.

Everything was going dark...

 _Bang!_

A gunshot rang through the air, and something hit Mako in the arm, causing blood to splatter all over the windshield, and his hand to let go of Lena's neck, allowing her to breathe once again, coughing and wheezing as the air filtered back into her lungs.

With whatever strength she had left, she pushed her back up against the door, lifted both feet up, and, with a shout, delivered a strong kick to Mako's temple, finally knocking the giant out.

Lena acted quickly to dive for the wheel, grabbing it and getting it under control before pulling it off to the side. She released a loud sigh as she ran a bit over the curb and put it in park. She hesitated a bit, getting a bit of breath back, then exited the car.

Stepping onto the concrete, she saw McCree pull up and get out of his car, twirling his Peacemaker before holstering it to take out and light up a cigarette, laying it between his lips, the smoke curling up like his smirk. "You complete idiot."

Lena coughed a few more times, feeling her neck. "I can agree...with that statement." She smiled, laughing and coughing at the same time.

McCree grabbed her hand. "Come on, let's sit you down."

He brought her over to his car, directing her to sit in the passenger seat while he crouched down in front of her. "Move your hands," he ordered, lightly slapping her hands away to feel her neck himself. His fingers ran along her pale white skin, speaking to her as he did so, "How does it feel?"

"Sore."

"Hm…" He stood up, "Alright. I know somebody who can take a look at it. Someone with an actual degree in medicine."

"A friend?"

"Uh...you can say that. We have a strange relationship. Anyway, buckle in. I will give some bullshit statement to the press, and then we will leave."

Lena smirked as McCree began to walk over to the press, but stopped in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder. "Oh yeah. Good work...it was a stupid idea...but you did good."

He nodded to her before continuing on to the press gathering around a couple of policemen standing guard, keeping them away from the scene.

"Nothing to see here, people. Just two idiots who thought they could get away with their crimes. Really, it's nothing new."

Of course, that didn't make them leave. In fact, it only seemed to make them want to get in more.

The detective sighed, rolled his eyes, and walked back to the car, muttering, "They never listen."

Getting into his car, he glanced over at his partner. "We'll get you checked out, then head back to the station, okay?"

Lena nodded. "Yeah, okay. My throat feels like shit."

"Getting strangled does that to you," He retorted, starting the car up.

As they drove away from the scene, Lena got a glimpse of the criminals being put into the back of a police car; one nursing a shot arm, and the other nearly unconscious. All she could do was smile at her work.

"So, uh," Lena began, turning to McCree, "Who is this doctor of yours?"

McCree clicked his tongue, "Her name is Angela Ziegler. She is...an acquaintance. Very kind. Quite smart. She will treat you at her clinic, then we will get out."

"Just an acquaintance, huh?"

He turned his head, eyes narrowed. "Yes."

Lena shrugged and threw her feet up, resting her hands behind her head. "Alrighty, whatever you say."

* * *

It didn't take long for them to reach the clinic, which was free for anyone, making Ziegler possibly one of the most charitable people in all of Ancora, if not, Washington. She did all kinds of operations, and took volunteers who wanted to help or get experience.

McCree pulled his car next to the sidewalk, pulling the key out of the ignition and stepping back into the bright West Coast sun. "We're here."

Lena closed her door and took a look at the clinic, noting its size wasn't great but, from what McCree has told her, it's visited by many people a day. This Ziegler must be a busy woman.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Lena turned her head to McCree, thinking he was talking to her. Instead, he was walking to the door, where a couple of men were, his hand reaching for his gun.

The two men looked over their shoulder, smirking. One of them turned around, his hand hiding something behind his back. Lena reached for her pistol, but McCree held a hand out to her. "It's just a spray can," he muttered, taking out his cigarette to stomp it out on the floor.

He stopped just a few meters from them, eyes narrowing. "Maybe it's time you two should hit the dusty trail, eh, friends?"

One of them stepped forward, flinging his arm out and shouting, "She doesn't belong in our country!" He looked over to his friend and nodded, both of them taking off in the opposite direction.

McCree adjusted his hat, glancing over at the door, seeing that the two men had spray painted something on the doors.

He stepped closer to it. "I've heard of this. Spray paint. With it, they can vandalize property faster than ever."

"When'd they make that kind of paint?"

"Pretty recently. Like, this year."

"Damn."

McCree looked at what they wrote on the doors. In bright orange letters, it read, "Dirty German Whore".

Lena raised her eyebrows, approaching the door and wiping her hand across the paint. "Why would they call her that? You told me she was Swiss."

"She is, but...people… they assume things, y'know?"

"Those men...they were Los Muertos, yeah?"

"Yup. Only the most aggravating organization on this side of the country. They first started by being anti-omnics, disliking the fact that they were accepted as members of societies. Then they began spreading to racism...and are just overall assholes."

Lena remembered she had her fair share of these people. Back when she was a police officer, she would have to respond to calls where they were the main source of the problem. One time, she got in a small gunfight. No one was hurt, but it was still quite an experience.

She looked at her partner. "Shall we?"

McCree nodded, walking over to open the door for her. "Yeah, let's get this over with." He muttered, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his coat.

McCree walked in after her, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it, sucking in the fumes of the burning tobacco.

The place looked the same as last time he was here: clean and very busy. Angela could be in any part, and he didn't have any time to search for her. So he pulled the cigarette out, hid it behind his back, walked to the front desk and rested his free elbow on it.

The young woman at the desk looked up at him.

"Good morning, miss. My name is Detective Jesse McCree. I am looking for Miss Ziegler."

The woman nodded. "She should be in Room B5, administering a vaccine."

He gave a single nod. "Thank you kindly."

McCree gestured for his partner to start down the hall, following behind her. When he was out of the front desk's sight, he placed the cigarette back in his mouth, hooking his thumbs in his jacket pockets.

They walked down the well-lit hall, passing the rooms, from A 1-9, and B 1-4.

As they approached B5, they saw the door open, and a voice emitting from the room. It was light, with a noticeable Swiss accent.

"It is completely normal for someone to be afraid of needles, my dear," she said, as the two detectives saw her from behind.

Lena had to admit, she was a beautiful woman, almost angelic. Pale white skin accompanied light blonde hair tied up in a slightly messy bun and bright blue eyes, with a smile that could calm anyone's heart, which is what she was trying to do as she crouched down in front of a seven year old girl, vaccine syringe in one hand, and the girls wrist in the other. Her mother was nearby, watching the whole thing with anxiety.

The doctor looked the girl in the eyes. "Let me tell you a story of when I was a little girl back in Switzerland. I too had a fear of needles, but this was when vaccines were still a new concept, so it was still scary. What if the vaccine gave me the sickness? Of course, that won't happen here, they've refined that.

"But anyway, the nurse noticed I was quite scared to get a shot, so she sat down next to me and told me a story. A story of a kind herbalist woman who would go on an adventure from one side of Europe to the other, healing children and helping the dying die soft.

"It was a beautiful story, and calmed me down, so I told her I was ready for the shot. But then she held something up," she said, lifting up an empty syringe. The girl's eyes widened and looked down at her arm, seeing she was already given the shot.

The doctor reached into her pack to produce a bandaid, and began to place it on the girl's arm. "That very experience, with the kind nurse who was able to help me with my fear of needles, was one of the many experiences that inspired me to become a doctor."

The girl was so happy that she hopped off the chair and hugged the doctor around the neck, thanking her for the help.

The mother stepped close, smiling as the girl let go of the doctor, who stood up, revealing herself to be quite tall.

"Dr. Ziegler, thank you so much for the help. My little girl was so afraid to come here, but I am glad you made her feel comfortable. So...how much do I pay?" She asked, searching in her purse.

Ziegler held a hand up, her fingers soft and delicate. "Please, Mrs. Jensen, no need for pay. I am just happy to help people, especially little ones." She said, smiling to the girl before glancing out the door. Immediately her face turned sour, but only for a second, as she turned back to the mother.

"Remember to schedule an appointment for the next check up. See you in three months."

With that, she left the mother and daughter, only to stop right in front of McCree, the sour look returning with a vengeance. She leaned in, making him lean back, neither of them making any progress getting closer or farther away from each other. Eventually, they stopped.

"Hello, Jesse." She said. Lena raised her eyebrows. _Nobody calls McCree by his first name!_

Then Ziegler reached up to flick the cigarette right out of McCree's mouth. The rolled up stick of tobacco didn't make it far, flipping in the air a couple of times before hitting the ground with a very light thud.

Angela lifted her foot, and stomped it down onto the cigarette, putting it out.

Lena stood on the side, eyes becoming wider than dinner plates. _Did she just do what I think she just did?_

McCree sighed. "Mmm, hello, Angela. Nice to see you too."

"I've told you multiple times, Jesse, to not smoke in my clinic...and in general."

"Well, my dear Miss Ziegler, you and I both know I do it to bug you."

Angela produced what Lena thought was a growl. A very annoyed one, at that. Then she pulled away from him, allowing him to straighten his back.

"Why are you here, Jesse?"

McCree tilted his head towards Lena. "My new partner has gotten strangled in a recent car chase. Very large man. She didn't pass out, I was able to save her in time, but I just want you to give her a little check-out. For any damage."

Angela glanced over at Lena. "I mostly like to work with children, Jesse."

McCree placed a hand on Lena's back, pushing her forward. "Then you'll do fine."

She cocked an eyebrow, looking down at the Lena, who frowned at her partner. "McCree, are you calling me a child?"

"Oh, most definitely."

She scowled, then rolled her eyes and looked at Angela. "My name is Lena. Nice to meet you, Miss Ziegler." She smiled, holding a hand out.

Angela returned the smile, taking her hand to shake it. "The pleasure is mine. A little check shouldn't take that long, so uh…" She looked around for an empty room.

Her eyes fell upon one nearby. Room B3.

She pointed Lena to that room. "Just go in there and sit down. I need a word with your partner."

Lena glanced from McCree to Angela, an eyebrow raising. "Err...okay. Whatever, I guess." She backed away slow, wondering what these two were about to talk about, before disappearing into the room.

Angela placed a hand on her hip, eyes still on Room B3. "Your partner is a bit...strange, wouldn't you agree?"

"I completely agree. But it's kinda nice, y'know? To have someone young around. New ideas, and a lot more energy."

"Were you like her at that age?"

"No. She is on a totally different level of energized."

Angela chuckled, glancing at McCree, she stayed silent for a moment before she spoke, "You really need to stop smoking."

"It helps me."

"It really doesn't."

He sighed. "Listen, I have to call Fareeha. Just go do your thing and...then we can leave."

Angela nodded, walking towards the room as he began to walk down the hall. "Okay. But one more thing McCree."

He turned around, tipping his hat up with a finger, awaiting her next words.

"Just...please don't smoke in my clinic anymore. It's not good for the patients."

McCree smirked, lifting two fingers to his forehead, saluting her. "You got it, Angel."

The woman smirked and pivoted on her heel to walk into the room, leaving McCree to himself.

He tucked his thumbs into his pockets and made his way back down the hall to the receptionist. Pointing a finger at the phone on the desk, he asked, "Can I use this?"

She nodded. "Go ahead, detective."

McCree nodded his thanks and picked the phone up, dialing in the number through the rotary for the Chief of Police, Fareeha Amari.

It rang several times, McCree leaning against a nearby wall, a low sigh escaping from his mouth.

Then, the other side quit ringing, a stern voice coming through. "Fareeha Amari."

"Hey there, Fareeha."

"Oh, McCree. I have received word on Mr. Fawkes and Mr. Rutledge. Your work, I presume?"

"Not exactly. Lena did the heavy work, I just drove. She bagged them, but got strangled in the process. She is fine, don't worry, I am just having Ms. Ziegler check her out."

"Mmm, okay. Well, as soon as they are done, I want you two to come straight back here. You may have gotten something done, but that doesn't mean your shift is over."

"My work is never done."

"Exactly. Come back as soon as you can. And give Angela my very best, if possible. I have other matters to attend to."

"Yes, ma'am."

And with that, they hung up. McCree placed the phone back on the receiver, thanking the receptionist again before walking out to the hall, seeing Angela and Lena already making their way to him.

"Just got done talking with Amari. She gives her best to you, Angela, like always. Anyway, how is my partner?" He asked as they approached.

Angela smirked and nodded. "No lasting damage. She might be coughing for the rest of the day, but she will be fine. This girl is a lucky one."

"Tell me about it."

Lena rolled her eyes at McCree's comment. She stopped right next to him and faced the doctor. Cheekily, she asked, "Now...do I get a lollipop?"

* * *

McCree made sure to tell Angela about the spray paint on the door before they exited the clinic, Lena with an orange lollipop in hand, sticking it between her lips. "She is very nice."

"Yes, she is. Now get in the car, we gotta get back."

"Whatever you say, boss!" She said, getting in the passenger seat of his car while he started it up.

McCree released an amused air as he began to drive them back to the police department, the two sitting in silence for a moment or two.

"So...what is your relationship with Dr. Ziegler?"

McCree remained stone faced, not giving anything away. He waited a second before responding. "None of your business."

"Oh come on, stop being such a stick in the mud."

"Stop being such a nosey redcoat."

The Brit's eyes widened, reaching up to pull the lollipop out of her mouth. "Woah, woah...low blow there."

McCree wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Why are you so interested in my life? You shouldn't care. It's not that interesting."

"Oh, I sooooo doubt that. Come on, McCree. Please? Just one thing?"

He glanced over before setting his sights back on the road before him. "I, uh…" He shrugged, "I like to watch television."

McCree could just hear his younger counterpart narrow her eyes at him. He gave a slight smirk. "You said one thing. And that is one thing about me."

Lena sat the rest of the way with her arms crossed.

* * *

The Ancora City Police Department was at its most calmest. With less than several people running about, and several people walking about. Ringing phones, sifting papers, clacking of typewriters created a symphony that is quite calming to those who work here.

But here, it was the regular album.

The doors opened, a man holding it open for a younger woman, her dark blue trench coat held over their shoulder, her other hand's thumb rubbing up and down one of her suspenders.

They were about to walk upstairs when the man at the front desk called out to them. "The Chief wants to talk to you up in the office!"

Lena had a hand on the railing, her head tilted up, eyes closed tight as she opened her mouth to release a very over exaggerated sigh.

McCree rolled his eyes and pushed on Lena's back. "We'll be right up."

As they ascended the steps, McCree glanced over at Lena. "Rough day?"

"You could say that."

"Wanna talk to me about it, champ?"

Lena stopped as they reached the top steps, her head dropping down to hang, with McCree walking around her to place an elbow on the railing.

She lifted her head, revealing a smile on her face. Her eyes flitted up to McCree. "First week here, and I have already gotten strangled."

McCree just shrugged, slapping his hand against the wooden railing. "Welcome to Homicide. Now come on, the more we keep Fareeha waiting, the more bitter she will be."

Lena looked over to the Chief of Police's door, sighing and nodding. "Alright. Let's go. Lead the way, partner."

McCree tipped his hat. "Gladly."

With him leading the way, she was able to slip her coat back on fast enough to grab the door as he opened it, the two entering the office, with Lena closing the door behind them. They then stood in front of the desk, waiting.

The chief's office was quaint for someone of her position. Medals of her time in the military, photos and the like. But what most stood out to anyone standing there would be the rocket launcher hanging above the owner of the office. Like a trophy, it was held by two stick-like iron arms as a light shone down upon it, glinting off its steel finish.

Fareeha Amari reached up with a couple of tanned fingers to brush back her dark wavy hair, sliding them down to swing off her neatly curled ends. Then they began their journey down, sliding across her cheekbones, touching the tattoo below her eye before falling down below her chin, stroking it as her brown irises inspected the paper held in her other hand.

Eventually, her eyes flitted up to meet McCree's.

She gestured to the two seats in front of her with a free hand. "Please, sit. I am looking over a few things, it won't take long."

The two followed her order, sitting down, with McCree taking his hat off and placing it on his lap.

Fareeha finished reading in a minute, placing the paper down on a stack of papers with just as much word density as the recent addition.

She interlocked her fingers and gave a faint smile to the two. "Good work, the both of you. Really."

Fareeha remained silent for a moment, glancing at Lena. "However, Detective Oxton, please don't be going off on your own without backup. Jumping to another _moving_ car is reckless."

Lena sighed and leaned back in her seat. "We wouldn't have been able to get them if I hadn't done that. Besides, I had McCree watching my back."

"This may be true, but he was in the other car."

"My arse is still here, isn't it?"

"Well now you have a bruised neck."

"I can find a choker. Guys like rough girls."

McCree visibly rolled his eyes as he pulled out a cigarette, something only Fareeha noted. She smirked and glanced back to the Lena. He seemed to tolerate Lena to a degree, even being nice to her, but she could tell that McCree was starting to reach a certain point with his partner.

Fareeha's eyes flitted back to McCree, who was lighting up the end of his cigarette, his face illuminating in the shadow his hair cast upon it.

His eyes met hers, causing him to shrug as he pulled the cigarette out, waving it around as he talked, "Listen, she knows what she did and she faced the consequences for it. We learn by our mistakes. Trial and error, and all that shit. Y'know? And the crooks have been brought to justice. She did good for being in here a week."

Fareeha glanced between the two, analyzing them both for anything to note on. Finding nothing to do so, she nodded. "Yes she did. You both did. Good work," she stood up, picking up papers and trying to get them contained between her hands, "Just...no more car hopping, okay?"

Lena chuckled. "No promises."

Fareeha narrowed her eyes at her.

"Alright, fine, whatever...okay."

She nodded. "Good. Now get to work. I am sure the paperwork on the chase isn't going to be scarce."

Another exaggerated sigh from Lena as they walked out to return to their desks, earning a smirk from Fareeha.

* * *

When evening came to throw it's starry blanket over the west-coast city, the two detectives decided to check out for the night, to go back to their comfortable homes.

As the two walked out to their vehicles, Lena reached out and grabbed the McCree by his coat as they stepped under the bright shine of a street light, him stopping to look at Lena, whose body gave away an abashed expression.

"Lena...is something wrong?"

Her eyes were turned downward. "I didn't...fuck up with what I did today, did I?"

McCree's eyebrows raised, before being pulled down in thought.

He put a gloved hand on her shoulder. "You did the best you could in the situation given. If I was your age...I'd have probably done the same."

Lena tilted her head up to look at him. "Really?"

"I mean...it's a stupid thing to do. Very stupid, in fact. You need to realize that you have mortality...something that can be wrenched away from you in an instant."

She nodded. "Yeah...yeah that makes sense. I am sorry if I caused trouble."

He chuckled. "Not as much as usually caused by those two Australians. Anyway, I should be heading home."

She let go of his coat and stuck her hands in her pockets."Yeah, me too. I still have a lot of unpacking to do."

"Still?"

"I've only had so much time to unpack my stuff, McCree. This job keeps me busy...and makes me tired by the end of the day."

"Yeah, that is true." He dropped a cigarette and stomped it out. "Goodnight, kid. See ya in the morning."

"See ya!"

McCree went to his car, and Lena went to her motor bike. An old thing, painted black, with some scratches in some places, but it's kept its loyalty to her. Still running after many years.

With McCree turning his key in the ignition, and Lena revving up her engine, the two detectives rode out of the parking lot, to their separate homes.

* * *

The apartment of Detective Jesse McCree wasn't very dirty. It also wasn't very clean. Dishes weren't being stacked on high in the sink, but that didn't stop bottles of alcohol from collecting around it, either half full or entirely empty. Small tools and oil canisters lay about on the living room table. Various ashtrays scattered across the room, with multiple put-out cigarette butts in each.

A creaking sound reverberated throughout the average apartment as the door opened, the owner of the not-so-humble abode grumbling before closing it behind him, taking his hat off to set it on the stand nearby along with his gun holster, letting his Peacekeeper hang, harmless for now, then he pulled his coat off, throwing it to the side, the cloth blanketing over his sofa.

Tugging his gloves off, he reached over and flipped a switch, turning on the artificial light that shined down from the ceiling onto his left hand, glinting off the metal that was in place of flesh.

He took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt all the way down, revealing leather straps across his now bare torso. Unfastening the straps, he grabbed the forearm of his artificial limb, twisted it ninety degrees, and pulled it off with a hiss, a groan of relief escaping from between his lips. His sleeve went limp as he held his left arm in his right hand, tossing it onto the sofa.

Sighing, he reached over to drag his coat closer, digging around in the pockets for a pack of cigarettes and a worn brass zippo lighter. He tucked the pack into his pants pocket, picking out one of two cigarettes left in the pack he bought just that morning. He noted in his mind to buy a new one the next morning.

Sticking it in his mouth, he grabbed the lighter, flicking it open with a _fshink!_ Lighting the cigarette end, he closed it and tucked it away with the pack.

Walking over to the kitchen counter, he snatched the neck of a half full whiskey bottle before making his way over to his balcony door, setting the bottle aside to open it.

Stepping out onto his small balcony, he looked at the stool he had set up there, with an ashtray filled with as many cigarette butts as the rest of his home. Placing the bottle down next to it, he was then able to pull his cigarette out, and blow wispy smoke out into the air of night.

Resting an arm on the railing, his brown eyes ran over the city of Ancora, the moon lighting as much of it as the small space rock could. Over the police department, the omnic quarter, the clinic. Everything.

He burned through a whole cigarette in less than five minutes. Jabbing it into the ceramic of the ashtray, he grabbed the bottle, pulling off the cap with his teeth and spitting off the balcony, he took a long swig, gulping down almost all of the contents before slamming it back onto the stool, wiping his lips of the amber liquid.

He pulled out another cigarette and lit it up.

That was when the phone rang from inside.

Looking into his apartment, he saw the rotary phone on the dining table, it's sound calling out to him.

McCree sighed, put the cigarette in his mouth, and walked inside, picking it up and putting it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"That is some partner you have there."

McCree's eyes flashed for a moment. A familiar voice.

"Angela?"

"What other Swiss girls do you know?"

"Well, on the cover of some magazines-"

"Ha, funny."

"I try my best."

"I guess that may be true."

"May? Ah, you break my heart, Angel."

He heard a chuckle as he put the phone between his head and neck, grabbing the receiver and bringing it outside.

"So, what were you saying about my partner?" He placed the receiver on the stool, pulling the cigarette out to blow smoke.

"She is, eh, quite an...interesting character, isn't she?"

"The most hyperactive homicide detective I have seen."

"Indeed. But she is a sweetheart."

"That is true...she does like to go off on her own, though. She is...kinda stupid, yet brilliant at the same time."

"Hm. I know a few people like that."

He huffed. "And who might that be?"

"Someone who decided to use wine as an antiseptic."

A smirk. "Well he probably didn't have any whiskey on him."

"Yeah, but...this guy is so stuck in the early 1900s that it baffles me he even had wine on him."

"How about we not judge a guy for the kind of alcohol he carries?"

"You had to be hospitalized."

"I didn't know wine made it worse!"

A silence grew between them, as if they were angry at each other.

But instead, they both started laughing.

"You're a stupid man, Jesse. You really are."

"I may be stupid, but I do have luck."

"You sure do. And so does your partner."

"Don't she? I am surprised the big man didn't snap her neck right there. I was panicking."

"Jesse McCree? Panicking?"

"Your jests are offending me."

"Oh? And what would you do?"

"I would smoke in your office."

Another moment of silence.

"You do that, and I will never talk to you again. And that means no free checkups or care."

"Oooh...harsh."

"Yeah, not as harsh as giving me lung cancer."

"It wouldn't be that fast."

"You don't know that."

McCree sighed, shaking his head, he took a drag of his cigarette.

"So how is the door?"

"Got it cleaned. Thanks for running those gangsters off. People really need to be educated on the difference between German and Swiss."

"I would be glad to go down there and do it for you, but I am afraid I would be a bad teacher."

"Why?"

"I ain't exactly a peaceful man, Angel."

"Oh yeah, forgot. Silly me."

Another moment of silence entered in, with McCree glancing down at the glowing tobacco in his cigarette.

She was the first one to speak, "Well, I have a lot of work to get to. It was nice seeing you again today."

He nodded, but realized she couldn't see it. "Uh, yeah, it was. I have...things to do as well."

McCree heard a slight chuckle. "I bet."

He gave a faint smirk. "Well then...goodnight, Angela."

"Goodnight, Jesse."

Placing the cigarette between his lips, he put the phone down and brought it back in, closing the balcony door after setting the receiver down.

He then stood there, glancing around his apartment for something to do as the still burning smoke held in his mouth.

His eyes settled on the television, a small older model, one without color. He shrugged and flipped it on, sitting back in his sofa, pushing his artificial arm aside as the news came on.

What came on wasn't normal news for this city. The man standing there was constantly looking behind him, at what seemed to be the Ancora Grand Hotel. Police were scrambling about in the background. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

His voice had a slight struggle to it, "-isn't confirmed how many have been killed in this attack. Any questions we give to the authorities have been met with as much confusion as we have. The only thing that they can confirm is...it's a massacre in there."

McCree's eyes widened.

"Shit." He threw the rest of his cigarette in the nearest ashtray.

And, in an instant, he was up, grabbing his mechanical arm and reconnecting it, after which he began to start strapping the harness to his body.

The phone started to ring in the middle of this process.

Stopping to pick it up, he knew who it was before the voice came to his ear.

"McCree! Have you seen the news!"

He glanced back at the television, the news story still going on. "Yeah, I just did." Finishing up the straps, he worked on buttoning up his shirt, "Fuck...how close are you?"

"I see it in the distance right now. Call Oxton and tell her the news. Understood?"

He nodded, already getting his tie on. "Yeah, yeah, see you there!"

McCree didn't wait for a response, instead he hung up, and, finishing his tie, started dialing in Lena's phone number. While he waited, he got his holster on.

In that moment, Lena answered.

"I was just on my way out the door when you called! I know! I saw it on the telly! See you there! Bye!"

And she hung up.

McCree slammed the phone back down, now being able to focus on getting his coat, gloves, and hat on.

Then, being only in his apartment for, practically, thirty minutes, he left just as quick as he came in.

* * *

It was a cold night, in more ways than one.

Chief of Police Fareeha Amari's brown eyes stared at the scene ahead of her, black coat keeping her warm from the decreasing temperature the drop of the sun brings. Her arms were crossed in thought, her mind going a hundred miles per hour.

The Ancora Grand Hotel, a beacon for banquets, balls, and other charitable events. A high standing tower with a great history of the city itself, now owns a new kind of history.

 _1949, the Ancora Grand Hotel was the witness of a mass murder._

She hasn't walked in to the blocked off hotel yet. To be honest, she was afraid to. Ever since her time in the war has she ever heard men speak of such gruesome killings.

Her eyes flashed over to the press, taking pictures from behind the police line, yelling over at her and any policeman for some sort of info.

Fareeha barely had any as it is. She was waiting for her two homicide detectives.

The sound of a loud engine revving indicated the arrival of one.

A flash of dark blue on black sped past the hotel, the screeching sound of it coming to a halt outside of Fareeha's view.

A small, lithe figure made her way past the large mass of media, snapping her suspenders as she got out of their reach, smiling wide at her successful evasion.

But it quickly disappeared at the sight of the scene laid beyond her. Her pink lips turning down as she saw Fareeha standing aside, watching the hotel.

Lena bit her lip as she walked over, nodding to her. "Chief Amari."

Fareeha nodded back, keeping her gaze on the building. "Detective Oxton."

They stood in silence, neither of them speaking for a bit.

"So...is McCree here?"

"No. Not yet."

"Well...what happened?"

Fareeha glanced over. "I'll explain when he gets here. If there is one thing I don't want to do here, it's repeat myself."

Lena nodded, wondering when McCree will get here.

* * *

Luckily, he wasn't too long, only taking a few minutes more before he arrived at his destination. Unluckily, for him, the media swarmed his car, wanting some interview or picture.

Lena widened her eyes at them. "What animals."

"Tell me about it," Fareeha sighed, adjusting her coat to better warm her body as McCree was able to get out the other end safe, blinking the many camera flashes out of his eyes, allowing him to see the scene that everyone else had.

A hotel, it's doors wide open. A young woman, sitting aside, wrapped in a blanket while men asked her questions. Policemen running to and fro. Families, mothers, wives, children, crying as they know their loved one was here.

He walked to Lena and Fareeha, nodding to them both. "Good evening ladies."

Fareeha shook her head. "Not so good."

McCree nodded again, looking down, then turning his head up to the hotel. "So what happened here?"

Fareeha drew in some breath before she spoke, "Tonight, there was a banquet for homeless omnics. Many were a part of it. Wealthy omnics, humans, even veterans. Any and all who sympathize with the cause. Then, one of the servants," she pointed over to the blanketed woman, "Decided to go out the back for a small smoke break. Halfway through, she began to hear gunshots, a lot of gunshots. She tried to get back in, but the back door was locked. So she ran around to the front and came in to find…to find…"

McCree reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "We got the rest."

Lena's eyes glanced from one to the other. When she spoke, her voice was soft, "Oi. We should take a look inside. See the damage, yeah?"

McCree looked over to her, giving Fareeha one last glance before nodding. "Yeah...yeah," he gestured, "You lead on."

Lena sucked in her lower lip, nodding as her eyes flitted to the hotel. "Alright."

Ascending the stairs to the front door, she began to get anxious with every step. She didn't want to look around, but with her, it couldn't be helped.

She could see one man bent over, gagging from the foul sight of what awaited her. Another man was shaking his head, leaning against the wall, as if unable to comprehend what he just saw.

When their eyes could finally see through the open doors, they knew that whatever lay beyond the foyer was much worse.

On the floor was the body of an omnic security guard, a huge hole where it's blue dots would be, the jaw torn open and the wires inside shredded up like paper. It sparked and shook, making Lena flinch as she stepped past it.

The desks, as well as the stairways leading up to the ballroom, were spattered in blood, covered in bodies with throats slit, brains blown, or their lower chests disemboweled. Crimson liquid spilled down the white marble steps. It was like a line on a treasure map, leading to the 'X'.

Except they wouldn't find treasure.

Carefully, the detectives walked around the bodies, making sure not to step in a puddle of the blood, until they made it to the second floor, where a few more bodies were placed.

An officer stood by the door to the ballroom, giving a sullen look to the investigators. "It's in here, detectives." He murmured.

The door was half open, and Lena could already spot a few bodies on what used to be marble white floor. Whatever killed these people did not give any sort of mercy or decency.

"H-how bad is it?" She asked, getting closer to the door, wrapping her fingers around the knob of the one not closed. She glanced at the officer, awaiting a response.

The young man looked at her, turned his eyes down, and opened his mouth to say something.

But nothing came out.

Instead, he shook his head.

McCree saw struggle in Lena as she looked back to her shaking hand. She began taking deep breaths, trying to get herself under control.

He took a step closer, grabbing her wrist.

She turned her head up to see him nod to her. "Allow me."

Lena's eyes flashed at him. They looked like they thanked him as she nodded back and stepped behind him.

McCree, closing his eyes, gave one deep breath before pushing the door open and entering.

Instantly, his boot connected with some red liquid. Red and sticky. Lena gasped and released a whimper.

He opened his eyes.

Not a single inch of white could be spotted in this room. The floor, the walls, even the ceiling were drenched in blood, dripping down to collect into pools.

Omnics had their circuitry showing out of whatever remained of their neck, sending sparks onto the human bodies.

If these people had faces, he couldn't see them. They were either caved in from a close blast, or shredded, evidently from a shotgun due to the shells littering the ground.

Skull, matter, and brain stuck to the walls, the floor, or were left clinging to their host's head.

Some had no arms, some no legs. Some had a huge hole punched through their chest, and others had their organs spilling out onto the floor.

No one was left alive. And no corpse was left without ten foreign objects penetrating their bodies.

The only sound echoing in this room was the sound of blood, falling from the ceiling and splashing against bodies or into pools of their own kind.

Lena began to breath heavy, feeling her legs giving out, she fell to her knees, getting her lower pants soaked. She held her hands close to her chest, tears spilling out from her eyes.

McCree stood there, his eyes darting all over the place, from the bodies, to the blood, to the turned over tables.

This wasn't the first time he saw a massacre in his life.

But it was his first time seeing one as a detective.

With a shaking hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He reached in, but felt nothing, realizing he smoked all of them already.

He gritted his teeth, crushed the pack in his grasp, and threw it to the floor.

They stood there, wallowing in their own silence, for at least a good minute.

Then, Lena asked a question.

"How...how could someone just...do this?"

McCree glanced down at her. He has never seen this side of her. Being with her for only a week, he has gotten to see the playful, cheerful side of her. But not this. Not complete and utter terror. Not complete sadness.

With no sarcasm in his voice, he answered as best he could.

"By pulling the trigger."

* * *

 _ **Writer:**_

 **Freelance7**

 _ **Artist:**_

 **northssketchbook**

* * *

A/N: First I want to thank northssketchbook on tumblr, which you should check out, for drawing the piece of art that inspired me to write this as well as art of scenes and the characters. I have been working with her for almost 3 months and this is the product of our collaboration. How long until the next episode? I don't know. Depends on my brain.

And well there you have it. The start to a new noire AU series, now with Overwatch! This will focus more on story than ships, which it will barely have any of, so sorry if you came here expecting that, but I hope you stay around. It will be violent, dark, and grisly, and I hope you guys will stick with me through the whole thing.

Anyway, please please please make sure to leave a comment. It could be praise or criticism, I don't care, but it's very helpful to my growth as an author. Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed!


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